Of Warm Coke and Laughter
by musikfreakmeg
Summary: A series of one-shots with a pretty good dose of Fax in them. Latest: The One We Didn't See - the beach, the cave, the dock, then...? Between TFW and MAX. I don't own Maximum Ride or any of the characters.
1. Of Warm Coke and Laughter

**A/N Hello to all! To those of you who don't know me, it's nice to meet you. To those who've read my stuff/reviewed/PM'd me before, good to see you again, and thank you for deciding that I'm okay enough at writing to keep reading the things I spew out onto this site.**_  
_

**As I said in the description, this is a continuation of that final scene in School's Out - Forever. Enjoy. :D**

_Fang and I leaned against each other and laughed and laughed, unable to speak, for the longest time._

'Ow, stop, it hurts!' I finally managed to gasp out, laughter still cramping in my stomach and making it hard to breathe properly. Seeing Fang's face, his lips pressed tightly together to try and hold in any sound, just made me laugh harder until I couldn't stand looking at him anymore; I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, feeling it shake beneath me as we both tried to calm down.

'Was it even that funny?' I asked eventually, lifting my head to risk a glance at his face. He was grinning in a way I hadn't seen him do since before Angel was kidnapped, and if the ache in my cheeks was any indication, I was sporting a pretty similar expression.

'Nope,' he replied, his voice still holding a quiet chuckle as he pulled himself into an upright position from where he'd slumped a little way down the tree trunk we were sitting against. 'Guess when you're stressed to hell a lot of things can seem like comedy gold.'

I nodded, digging my heels into the ground in front of me, pushing my back against the rough bark of the tree and feeling it scrape against the ridges of my spine through my shirt. Everything still felt heightened after my time in the isolation tank, like my senses had gone into overdrive after hours of being shut off completely – the breeze on my face felt like an icy cloth being slapped against my cheeks, the different smells of the pine trees around us and the mangrove swamp downwind mingled together almost overwhelmingly, and the rustling of small nocturnal animals moving about was kinda like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together right next to my ear. My skin felt raw, the nerve endings way too sensitive, hyper-aware of everything within touching distance; the heat that Fang radiated as he sat next to me was like a magnet, tugging at any exposed skin on my left side until I felt as though I was having to make a genuine effort to hold the space between us. I frowned, pulling the rolled-up sleeves of my sweater down my arms and over my hands.

'You're thinking,' he stated, and I made a small sound of acknowledgment as I stared out into the trees, the darkness cool and soothing against my eyes.

'Yeah,' I said after a slight pause. 'I'm thinking that… I could do with laughing like that on a regular basis.' I turned my head towards Fang and narrowed my eyes accusingly. 'Why aren't you funny more often?' A smile broke across my face and I dodged backwards as he flicked at my forehead in retaliation, laughter making its way out of my mouth again. I'm not even sure that it was an entirely humorous laugh, either; it was the release of tension, the utter relief that I was here, sitting with my best friend and watching over the rest of my safe flock. And, yeah, I guess the fact that I wasn't in the clutches of a bunch of whack-job scientists helped too.

'What's our next step, then?' He crumpled our empty soda can between his hands as he spoke, then tossed it high into the air in front of him, watching as it landed a couple of feet away from where he sat.

I liked the fact that he said 'our'. Like we were all in this together, like I wasn't on my own.

'I don't know.' Sighing, suddenly exhausted, I let my head fall sideways onto Fang's shoulder. 'I feel like that's my answer to everything at the moment. Everything's "I don't know" or "let's just wait and see" or "maybe a sign from God will fall from the sky and tell us what to do". I feel like I'm losing it – at the end of the day, what if I just don't have a clue what I'm doing?'

Fang's shoulder rose and fell slightly, carrying my head with it as he breathed. I didn't expect him to reply – I just needed to get everything out, say it to _someone_ – but after a moment his low voice sounded from above me.

'You've been managing it so far. We're all here and no one's been busted up too badly-'

'Except for you,' I cut in, nudging him lightly in the spot where Ari had shredded his side to ribbons.

'No one's been busted up too badly,' Fang repeated firmly, and I rolled my eyes. 'It was never gonna be easy. But so far you've been making the right calls.'

Now don't get me wrong, that kind of support is great and all, but I could feel frustration beginning to roil in my stomach.

'Well sure, but I've never been in control!' Pausing to make sure I hadn't woken any of the others, I continued more quietly. 'Everything I've done has been a lucky guess, or a barely-escaped disaster, or something that the freakin' voice in my head told me to do. You know what it's like? It's like when you're flying in a heavy wind, or you catch a cross-current; suddenly you're not the one steering anymore and all you can do is flap and hope. Every move I make is just another flap that I have to pray doesn't send us all barrelling into a tree or crashing into the ground.'

It was starting to become a kind of habit, this whole spewing-out-all-my-insecurities-to-Fang thing. A weird, confusing, and not-slightly embarrassing habit. He didn't respond this time, and I was glad; I really didn't want to talk about it anymore. No need to prolong the discomfort of talking about how helpless I felt. No need to keep the lid open on that can of worms.

'So I've got a question,' I said after a few seconds of silence. 'If you knew that the other Max wasn't me straight away, why exactly didn't you do something about it?' I tutted, laying it on thick. 'I'm fairly certain I raised you better than to mindlessly follow the orders of an imposter.'

I could almost _feel_ Fang's scowl, his roll of the eyes, then my head was suddenly jolted up as he shrugged me hard off his shoulder.

'Hey!' I protested, the sharp movement making my still-fuzzy head spin a bit.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, turning to look at me head on.

'Your head was too heavy.'

I glared at him childishly.

'Yeah, well… Your shoulder was too bony.'

I managed to resist the urge to add 'so there' and stick my tongue out at him. That may have been overkill.

Then something happened.

Just as I was moving to look away from him, to turn my gaze back to the trees and the darkness, his eyes caught mine. And they just sort of… stuck.

I blinked, not quite sure what was going on; a small frown creased the spot between my eyebrows as I found myself incapable of looking away from him. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat suddenly felt as though it had closed up completely and no sound came out. _What the heck is happening?_

Jeez… Why did I feel like all my organs had just been liquefied? _Nice imagery there, Max. Real poet you are._

Fang's face looked like mine felt: kind of confused and uncertain and surprised. We sat staring at each other, caught in this weird unbreakable silence, then I jumped as his hand brushed mine, just for a second. The crease between my eyebrows deepened and I scrutinised his face, as if I might be able to see right through it and into his head, see the thoughts running through his mind if I looked hard enough. _Was that an accident? It must have been, surely. Fang and I… We aren't like that. _I remembered the Voice talking to me after I'd seen Fang kissing that red-haired girl – _**'maybe you have feelings for him'**_.

But that wasn't how things were. It never had been. Fang and I had always been a pair; I knew it was bad of me to think it, bad to separate him from the rest of the flock, but he _was_ my best friend and he had _been_ my best friend pretty much from day one and _Fang and I weren't like that._ Right?

Sucking in a deep breath, I pulled my eyes away from him and sat up straight, rubbing the palms of my hands against my jeans.

'You know, it's getting pretty late,' I said stiffly. 'Been a long day and all…'

'Yeah.' I flicked a glance at Fang but he was facing forwards, looking out into the forest, his face giving nothing away. 'You gonna be able to sleep okay?'

I grimaced. _Oh yeah. That._

'I don't know. Probably not. Worth a try, though.' There was another moment of silence, not nearly as comfortable as it usually was. 'You taking first watch, then?'

'Sure.'

'Okay. Night.'

'Night.'

There was a kind of unspoken agreement that we were going to skip out on our normal hand-stacking routine, and after a couple of seconds of just sitting there with my fingers twisted together in my lap, I stood up rigidly and moved over to where the others were sleeping.

Lying down on the forest floor, the earthy smell of slightly-rotten fallen leaves filling my nose, I shot one last look over at Fang; he was still in the same position, staring out into the night, the empty Coke can lying crumpled on the ground in front of him. I let out a sharp breath and closed my eyes, still trying to work out what had gone down in my head.

Uh-huh – something had definitely changed.

**A/N 'Something changed right then, but I didn't know what.' - one of my favourite lines in SOF. :) Hope you all liked it. **

**I'll definitely be putting up more one-shots soon, some based off my own version of Nevermore (called After Angel, if you liked this then check it out), and some set at different points in the actual series. Might put them all in one story and turn it into a collection of one-shots. *shrugs***

**Let me know what you thought of this one. You get cyber hugs and hypothetical cake/cookies/whatever floats your boat if you review! So review! :D**


	2. Changing Rooms

**A/N Next one up. I think this is going to be a two-parter. Or rather, the next one isn't going to follow directly on from this, but they'll be related in some form or other.**

**This is one that follows on from my own version of Nevermore, After Angel. You don't really have to have read AA to understand this, but there may be a couple of spoilers, so if you're intending to read AA then it might be better to leave this until after you've done. If you have no interest whatsoever in reading AA then I'll fill you in quickly on things you might need to know.**

**SPOILERS FOR AFTER ANGEL BELOW:**

**Fang came back to join the two groups together again, after a LOT of nastiness and sad talks Max and Fang got back together, they saved Dr Martinez (in a strange, roundabout kinda way), and they found out the School was the root of all their problems and took it down. Also, Max and Fang matured a little over the course of the story, so Fang may talk/tease/smile a little more in this, and Max is a tiiiiiiiny bit more willing to admit to herself that she needs other people sometimes. Of course, they can both be completely childish when they want, so...**

**Enjoy!**

Something was wrong.

The house was dark and still, and the only sound that drifted into Max's room was Iggy's snoring coming through the wall. Life had been calmer for the group in the past month than it had ever been before; since the disbanding of the School, there hadn't been the slightest hint of an attack coming in their direction. This was the point in her life where she had the least reason to worry, the least reason to be kept up at night.

So why was she still wide awake?

She sighed heavily, watching patterns move across her ceiling as the moon cast shadows of tree branches through her window. She liked leaving the curtains un-drawn, always had done; being able to see the sky from her bed was comforting, calming. Usually it helped her sleep. But not tonight.

Kicking her covers where they were twisted around her feet, Max raised herself up onto one elbow to get a better look at her alarm clock. 00:21. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, as if somehow the act of checking the time might have caused Fang to miraculously appear. No such luck. _Where was he? _It wasn't as if they had some kind of spoken agreement, she kept telling herself. Neither of them had ever explicitly mentioned the fact that he had ended up in her room every night since they'd arrived back in Oregon. But that was what happened. And he was usually here by this time.

It wasn't like there was no reasoning behind their unspoken arrangement: the things that had gone down in California – learning the true story behind everything that had happened to them, saving Dr Martinez, finding Angel alive, bringing down the School – seemed to have taken their toll on Max. Not during the day, of course. When she was awake she was still tough, still strong, still totally kick-ass. Night was a little different.

She grimaced and sat up in bed, rubbing at the back of her neck as she thought about the nightmares that had plagued her since they'd arrived home. Actually, perhaps 'nightmare' wasn't a strong enough word – her mom called them 'night terrors'. Apparently that was the technical term, and all in all it seemed pretty appropriate. Not that Max remembered exactly what happened during those nights when she would come to sitting bolt upright, Fang's arms around her as he tried to calm her down, but the feeling of utter fear stayed with her for a while afterwards, lingering, turning sleep into something that she wasn't really in a rush to get back to.

So, yeah, it had kind of become standard for Fang to appear in her doorway at around half eleven, just as she was going to sleep. Big deal. Everything else aside, it would've been nice to have him sleeping next to her anyway, to hear him breathing and feel the mattress dip under his weight, but with the added issue of the night terrors it had sort of become a given that he would turn up to – this was the part that made her cringe and smile at the same time – look after her.

Where was he now, then?

Not that she was worried or anything. No, 'course not. She wasn't _that_ irrational. The time for being paranoid and anxious was past – they were all safe now. If Fang wasn't there it wasn't because he'd been drugged or taken or hurt. It wasn't because he'd left. It was because he chose not to be there.

But was that just as much a reason to worry? she thought suddenly. Why would he choose that? Had she said something? Done something wrong today? She winced, wrinkling her nose at her own panic; since when was she the sort of mutant who cared so much about one person's opinion of her? _Quit being stupid_, she thought, giving her head a shake. _You haven't had one of those night terror things in about a week now. He probably just thinks there isn't any reason for him to be here anymore. _Which stung a little, to be honest. She would've like to think that he enjoyed her company at night just like she enjoyed his; the idea that he'd seen it all as a job with an end-date wasn't particularly flattering.

Making a small growl of frustration in the back of her throat, Max shoved her bed covers off and made her way across the room. Without really thinking about what she was doing she ended up at Fang's door, her eyes fixed on the grainy wood in front of her, hand hovering in the air by the handle. After a few seconds of just standing there, almost frozen, she let her hand fall and dropped her head backwards to stare at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. _This is beyond ridiculous. Maximum Ride, you are pathetic. First off, it's _Fang_. If you want to go in, just go in. And seriously, you are _not_ the kind of person who lies awake at night unable to sleep until a _guy_ comes along to _take care of you_! Get a grip. _

With a quick roll of her eyes, Max twisted the door handle and stepped into the room. The sight that met her wasn't exactly what she'd been anticipating – she'd expected to see Fang asleep in his own bed like nothing was wrong, or Fang sitting in front of his laptop, frowning quizzically at her as he tried to work out why she was in his room at this time of night. What she got was a combination of the two: namely Fang sitting slumped forwards in his chair, head resting on the desk, sleeping face illuminated by the screen of the still-open laptop.

The tension drained out of her and she laughed under her breath as she closed the door, moving further into the room until she was standing beside Fang. Dipping her head slightly, she peered at the page open on the laptop screen. **It's been a while since I've posted here, so I guess I'm sorry about that. And it's not that nothing's been going on – quite the opposite, really – but we've all been kind of-… **His blog. Max looked away from the screen, turning her gaze downwards to Fang's head on the desk; his neck was bent at an awkward-looking angle, twisted around to accommodate his strange sleeping position. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Max shook him lightly, bending down a bit further to speak into his ear.

'Fang.' Then a bit louder. 'Fang.'

He woke almost instantly, eyes open and alert, a quick breath being drawn in as he sat up straight. Max crossed her arms in front of her, not really trying to hold in a smile as she looked down at him where he sat.

'You know, as cute and angelic and just adorably peaceful as you looked-' Fang scowled. '-I'm fairly certain it's bad for your neck to sleep like that.'

His scowl deepened.

'Thanks for the lesson, _Mom_,' he muttered, tilting his head from side to side to work out the stiffness in his neck.

Max snorted irreverently as she moved away from him to sprawl across his bed, her head resting back on her hands. His gaze followed her as she went.

'"_Mom"_? Isn't that kind of… wrong?'

Fang rolled his eyes in a long-suffering way before giving her a look that she interpreted as a mixture of 'really?' and 'you're an idiot'. His expression just made her snort again, and the two of them entered a strange kind of stare-off across the room; after a few moments, Max caught the flicker of a smile at the corner of Fang's mouth as he let out a breath that could almost be equated to a laugh and turned back to his laptop.

'So what, you're writing a boring post or something?' she asked, picking at the fraying end of her sleeve.

'Nothing I write is boring,' Fang replied coolly, eyes still on the screen as he tapped at the keyboard.

'Boring enough to send you to sleep.'

The noise of his fingers on the keys stopped for a moment, then continued a little faster than before. Laughing under her breath again, Max tilted her head back, the sound of typing becoming strangely calming; her eyes started to feel heavy, and she shifted up the bed slightly to find Fang's pillow. A frown crossed her face and she sat up.

'Hey.'

'What?'

'What's wrong with this pillow?'

Fang twisted around to look at her, his eyebrows raised.

'I don't know, what _is _wrong with it?'

'It's seriously lumpy. Totally uncomfortable.'

The corners of his mouth quirked up.

'Don't use it, then.'

Chuckling at Max's glare, Fang turned away from her, his hands moving back to the keyboard. Max continued to stare at his back for a moment, eyes narrowed, then her tiredness won out and she flopped down onto the bed again.

Next thing she knew Fang was standing over her, nudging her gently, smirking at her grimace as she woke up.

'"Totally uncomfortable", then?'

'Shut up.'

'So if you were tired enough to fall asleep on my "seriously lumpy" pillow, why did you hang around here?' He crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised. 'Come to think of it, why did you come through in the first place?'

His words were deliberate, the smirk was still there... He was messing with her, no doubt. Max bit her tongue, giving him a not-so-polite look as her mind raced to come up with an answer that might preserve at least a shred of her dignity. No such luck.

'You are such a jerk,' she said finally.

He sniggered at that.

'A jerk, huh?'

'Yes. You know why I came through and you know why I'm still here. You just want to make me say it. Hence, jerk.'

The words were accompanied by a look that dared him to push it further; his dark eyes gleamed a little with the challenge, but instead of saying anything else about Max's game of changing rooms, he sat on the edge of the bed and nudged her with his elbow. After a moment of stubborn refusal, she rolled her eyes and shifted over towards the wall that bordered one side of the bed, making room for Fang to slide in next to her. He raised an eyebrow at her when she kept a gap of a good few inches between them, dipping his head to stare at her from under his brow in a way that said 'don't be a pig-headed moron'. Sighing, she moved closer, letting him lay an arm over her waist and pull her into his chest.

Closing her eyes, Max twisted a little to make herself more comfortable in his hold.

'Still a jerk,' she muttered, and she felt a chuckle rumble through him at her words.

She didn't need to tell him that she was smiling. No doubt he already knew.

**A/N Hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought, and stay tuned for the next one-shot. :) Review! I enjoy reviews - they make me happy. **


	3. Terror

**A/N Hey there! You get an extra-long one this time 'cause I left it a while between posts. And 'cause this one just turned out long. :P It follows on from Changing Rooms in my head, not in terms of the timing and stuff, but just 'cause it's a similar subject matter. A bit dark at points, and got a bit of freaky stuff that could mess with any over-active imaginations out there - just mentioning it so that no one can say I didn't warn them! Enjoy!. :D**

_The floor was cold on her bare feet as she stepped cautiously along the corridor. Why was everything so dark? She could barely see the walls on either side of her, just having to trust her other senses to warn her if she was about to walk into something. But somehow she knew she was in a corridor. How did that work? Actually, 'where the heck was she?' might've been a better question – could she even remember arriving, the journey she'd taken to get to this spot, now, standing in a darkened hallway with bare feet and the smell of antiseptic in her nose? _

_ It always made her feel uneasy. The smell, that was. It made her heart quicken up, ready to supply as much oxygen as possible to her muscles if things came down to fighting or running away; she could almost hear the pounding in her chest as she took a few more steps along the corridor, feeling slightly lightheaded what with the adrenaline and the nerves and the smell and the… wrongness. It was just all wrong. She was in some building she didn't recognise, with no memory of how she'd reached it, and no idea how to get out or why she might be there in the first place. _

_And where was her flock? Where was her family? Had they been captured, were they hurt? _

_Max felt the muscles in her back tighten and she whipped around, staring back along the hallway behind her. Not that it did any good – she could barely see her own hand in front of her face – but she was certain she'd sensed something there. Standing dead still, she strained her ears for any sound. _

_There!_

_Was that it? Was that a slight shuffling coming from the darkness, a barely-audible sigh of someone – something – else's breath? _

_Heat flooded Max's face, her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she felt fear trying to arch its way across the curve of her head and down her back. She shivered, forcing herself to turn around and keep walking. Her body wailed in protest, muscles tensing, stomach clenching, but she told herself that there wasn't anything else she _could_ do; if there was something behind her then she'd rather walk away from it than towards it, and until she managed to find a way to turn some lights on in this place she wouldn't be able to see for sure if there was anything there at all. Of course, if it attacked her then that would move things along a bit, but that was something she'd have to deal with if or when it happened._

_As she walked, the sweeping sense of fear and unease just got worse. The smell was intensifying, making its way through her nose into the back of her mouth where it stuck, feeling as though it was choking her. The further along the corridor she got, the more disturbingly familiar it seemed, but somehow she still couldn't place the memory of where she was; it was as if that part of her mind had been censored, the thoughts pixelated and covered over, until all she could make out was a fuzzy mash of ideas that didn't quite make sense but at the same time made her feel kind of sick with dread._

_Max's ears picked up another shuffle that may or may not have been real, may or may not have just been her imagination, and she started moving a little faster, not worrying so much anymore about walking into anything. Her breaths were coming quickly now, her eyes boring into the blackness ahead of her as if she might be able to pierce her way through it. Was this what Iggy lived with all the time?_

_She hit a wall._

_Lights flashed on._

_Max whirled around, almost gagging on the smell which seemed to have suddenly hit its peak._

_And she knew where she was._

* * *

'It's the School!'

Fang was jolted awake by the cry, his gaze snapping straight to Max as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Her eyes were still closed, but her face was twisting, twitching as she slept, the bed covers winding around her legs as her whole body jerked under the weight of the night terror.

'It's the School!' she cried again, her head shaking violently from side to side like she was trying to throw the dream off her. 'No, no, no, _no_, I _can't_! Don't… Don't, please… I- I can't… I didn't mean to!'

Worry made Fang grit his teeth; Dr Martinez had explained these to him, to both of them, saying that they were just a result of the stress that Max had been through working on her subconscious, that they'd die down after a while, but that didn't make it any easier to watch.

'Max,' he said quietly, reaching a hand out towards her. He ran through a mental list of the list things Dr Martinez had told him to do when the night terrors happened: 'don't raise your voice, keep calm'; 'don't mention anything that could be frightening to her, even if it's to say that it's not real'; 'touch her if she'll let you, but don't force anything – if she runs away, follow her to make sure she doesn't hurt herself, but don't try to stop her'; 'no attempting to wake her up, it'll just make her panic more'; 'keep telling her that she's safe, she's at home, you're there – the calmer you can make her feel, the quicker she'll come out of it'.

Max had rolled her eyes at all that, sending a mock glare at Fang as if to say she didn't need to be looked after. But that was only after the first one, back when there was a chance that it had been a one-off, that it would never happen again. Dr Martinez's words were meant to be precautionary more than anything, just in case.

Then another one had hit two nights later, and another the night after. They'd been living in the house for just over a month, and the longest Max had gone without having a night terror had been about six days.

Fang's hand was hit away fiercely just as his fingertips brushed against her hair. He took in a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling a frown pull down at the corners of his mouth as he watched Max's face twist in fear.

'Max, you're okay,' he said, his voice quiet and steady, reaching towards her again and resting his hand gently on her head. 'You're alright, you're not in the-… You're not in that place, you're at home, everything's fine…'

His words were punctuated with Max's own cries, and as her head jerked to the side again he felt the cold sweat that had broken out on her brow, but he kept talking, repeating the same things over and over in a low, measured murmur that he hoped she could hear on some level.

Fang felt his breath shaking a little in his chest; he hated it, hated feeling so _helpless_, so unable to do anything for her. This was _Max_, the girl he'd grown up with and fought next to and managed to fall in love with along the way and _God_, he was supposed to look after her. Not that he'd ever say that to her face, of course, but he was.

And right now he couldn't.

'_No!_'

His hand was flung aside again as Max suddenly sat bolt upright, the shout ripping from her throat as her eyes flew open. Her breaths came quick and panicked, her stare unseeing, unrecognising, even as Fang shifted where he sat so that he was that bit closer to her; she was still asleep, still locked inside her own mind.

* * *

_She felt as though she was suffocating on fear, watching them all move towards her, all so familiar, all horribly, unbearably hurt: Iggy's jaw hung open, dangling, the bone broken, held on only by the skin that covered it; Gazzy stumbled forwards with a hole gaping in his abdomen, blood spilling out from between his fingers as he pressed a hand against his wound; Angel's movements were lurching, broken, just like her wrecked body, crushed by the force of a whole building collapsing on top of her; Nudge slid across the floor on her stomach, her back bent at a grotesque angle, using only her hands to pull herself forwards._

'_Please…' Max begged, barely able to choke the word out. 'I can't…' Tears burned in her throat, her eyes, blurring the sight of her flock staggering towards her._

'_But you let this happen,' said Gazzy, his words coming out as a groan of pain as he moved. _

'_No, no, I didn't mean to!' _

_Her back hit the wall and Max felt ready to throw up. The tears were coming fast now, making tracks down her face as her eyes darted wildly between each of her flock members, her arms wrapped around herself._

_And then her mom was there, standing next to her as if nothing was wrong, gaze fixed on the advancing flock members._

'_Honey, do you want me to make them go away for you?'_

_She couldn't. She couldn't tell her mother to make her flock leave, to make them go away. They were her _family_. But now she was shaking hard, barely holding back screams as waves of fear like she'd never felt before threatened to overwhelm her. How could this be happening? How could she be feeling like this, how could her flock be so horrifically injured, how could they all be back in the School? And they were still stumbling forwards, slow, faulty._

_Her mom was looking at her, waiting for an answer to her question. _

'_Mom, help me. I don't know wha-… I don't know, please, I can't, help me!' Max cried, her voice coming out loud with fright, raspy with tears._

'_Okay, darling,' her mom replied. 'I'm going to make it all go away.' _

_And a gun was in her hand, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, pointing at Iggy as he took another step, his jaw still dangling horribly. _

'_No!' Max shouted, a hand coming up to grab at her mom's arm._

'_But they're a problem, Max. They need to be dealt with.'_

_It wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was a nightmare, a bad dream, some kind of crazy simulation, anything. It just couldn't be real. Her chest felt tight, like something was holding her in a vice-like grip, and her breath was coming in hard gasps as she tried to fight against what was happening. _Not real, not real, not real…

'_Where's Fang?' she asked suddenly, the words almost echoing along the corridor. 'I need… Where…? _I don't know what to do!_'_

'_Oh, honey,' her mom said, sounding as if she was talking to a small child. 'Fang left, didn't he? He's not here.'_

_Max shook her head hard, clutching at her temple with one hand. _

'_No, no no no no, he said he wouldn't. 'The next time I leave you will be the day I die.' He _said_ that, he did!'_

_Her mom gave an airy laugh._

'_Of course, my mistake. There he is.'_

_And there he was, standing behind the rest of the now-stationary flock, his gaze firm and steady on her face, telling her it was okay, he was there._

'_But he _is_ going to leave you today. So I guess that means he needs to die.'_

_Then a shot rang out, a hole was suddenly barely visible in the dark fabric of Fang's shirt; his knees buckled, and as he fell Max heard herself screaming, heard herself shouting his name, then the names of all the others as time slowed down and she watched them get shot too, shot with bullets from the gun in her mother's hand, and alarms were blaring around her and she was on the ground feeling paralysed by the pain and the fear, and there was a voice yelling in her head that she could barely distinguish from her own desperate, ragged, shattered thoughts._

* * *

Max was crying now, shouting out broken parts of sentences that Fang was sure must have been carrying through to the others' rooms. But he knew no one would come in; Dr Martinez had made it pretty clear that the more people there were crowding around, the worse things would get. Hence why he'd been given all the instructions about what to do when these things happened – if one person was going to look after Max, it might as well be the one who was pretty much guaranteed to be right there when everything kicked off, right?

'Fang! Fang, please, make it stop, _please_! Nudge is… And Angel… I- How is…? Fang, I need… Please, _please_…'

She sat there, fingers twisted together, eyes wide and glazed, her whole body shaking as she rocked back and forth. Fang gripped hard at the sheets beneath him with one hand, biting down on his tongue and using the pain to try and ground himself; seeing her like this was just so _wrong_. It hurt, an almost physical pain down in his gut that wrenched harder with each second that he sat watching her, Max, _Max_, being assaulted by things he couldn't see, couldn't fight for her.

'I'm here,' he whispered. 'I'm right here with you, Max, you're okay, you're safe, nothing's going to hurt you here. It's just you and me, right here, Max, you hear that? You and me, just us, no one else. And we're okay. I've got you, you're alright.'

She looked at him then, staring at him, her eyes seeming huge in the dark of the room. For a moment he thought she might recognise him, might be waking up, but then her whole body tensed hard enough to make her jerk back a little and terror etched itself into her face again.

'Don't go! No, I need- I need you! Please, Fang, stop, _stop it_!'

Her hands were swatting at the air, grabbing her night clothes, pulling her hair, leaving nail marks across her face as she grasped at her own skin, trying to hide herself, to shield her head from whatever she was seeing. She bent forwards, leaning down far enough for her forehead to touch the bed covers, then almost immediately she had snapped back up again, taking in one huge gasp of air before falling still.

Slowly, watching Max closely for any changes, Fang laid his hand over hers. She turned, and as she looked at him her face seemed to crumple in on itself, then she was sobbing, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

'I can't do this.'

The words were whispered, only just audible, but they came out sounding so completely heartbroken that Fang almost couldn't breathe for a moment. Max didn't say things like that. She just didn't. So what the hell could she be seeing to make her _that_ scared, _that_ defenceless?

'You can. You can do this.'

Taking a chance, Fang pulled her in closer to him, one hand still holding hers, the other coming up to brush at her cheek even as she shook her head.

'I can't do it. I- I need Fang, please, I need… and he's not… and I can't do it. I don't know, and…' She seemed to choke a little, drawing in a strangled breath. 'They're all gone. They're all gone.'

Leaning into him, she rested her forehead against him shoulder, letting him wrap his arms around her.

'I'm right here, I've got you now. You can do it, it's okay…'

Fang wasn't entirely sure exactly what he was saying for half the time, just letting his mouth run in a way he'd never done before up until recently. After a few minutes Max's breathing slowed, and a little while later he felt the tension leave her.

'Fang?'

Her voice floated up to him, slightly muffled.

'Yeah.'

'Another one, then?'

He breathed in slowly through his nose.

'Yeah.'

Max pulled away from him, pushing both hands back through her hair to get it out of her face. She looked like her again; she'd lost the glaze of fear, and the unseeing stare had gone from her eyes.

'Well, that sucked,' she muttered, and he linked their fingers together, rubbing his thumb lightly against hers.

'You remember?'

She shook her head.

'No. But I feel kinda shaky and I think my heart's going at about a hundred miles per hour.' A pause. 'It wasn't _good_, I know that much.'

'Not at all.'

Conversation always felt strange after one of Max's night terrors, like they were both trying to stay superficial about it, to make it seem like nothing important. But her hand was still trembling in his, and she was staring at the bed covers in front of her, haunted by something she couldn't even remember.

'What was this one about, then?'

Fang felt his eyebrows come together at her question. She asked it every time, as if she thought that maybe if she could work out what she was dreaming about then she'd be able to stop it from happening.

'You said you were at the School, mentioned Nudge and Angel. Told me to stop at one point, but I don't know what you meant. Then you said you couldn't do it and that they were all gone.'

'What were all gone?'

He shrugged, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

'So it was pretty much the same old thing, huh?' She sighed, sounding slightly exasperated. 'You know, you'd think that if my subconscious was gonna torture me in my sleep, it could at least shake things up a bit, get some variety.'

The corner of Fang's mouth twitched up. He knew she was forcing herself to make jokes, make it appear as if she wasn't bothered, but it was good to hear the sarcasm in her voice.

For a moment neither of them moved, sitting in silence, then Max lifted the hand that was intertwined with Fang's, pulling his fingers up to her lips as she continued staring at the bed sheets. Her breath was warm across his knuckles. After a few seconds, Fang raised his other hand to her shoulder and gave her a light nudge, bringing her with him as he lay back down, wrapping his arms around her as they went so that by the time their heads had reached the pillows she was pressed against his chest.

A couple of minutes went by, then Max's voice whispered into the quiet again:

'Thank you.'

'Hey, it's what I do.'

She laughed a bit at that, jabbing him gently in the ribs.

'Apparently so.'

They didn't say anything else after that, and before long Fang felt Max's breathing deepen, her body relaxing against his as she fell back into sleep.

_Yep, _he thought. _I've got you. Just you and me._

**A/N I wasn't gonna put in that last line, but then I kind of couldn't resist it. So I caved. I'm weak. :P Hope you liked it - let me know by writing your thoughts in that box right there \/ REVIEW! :D**


	4. Three Letter Words

**A/N So this is a bit of a strange one. I had it posted as an individual one-shot before, but I kind of want all of them to be in one place, so I'm putting it here. This is Max being juuuust a tad existential and wordy and weird in her shock after Fang left. Pretty different from the other stuff I've done, but I wanted to try writing in a new style and I was in a strange mood at the time. Thus, this was born! **

**Some quick notes to my reviewers:**

**Thanks you all for taking the time to comment - it really means so much!**

**RandomPeep: I apologise for the 'scaray'-ness! :P**

**the-academy-isn't: I'm sorry that you didn't find the last one as interesting. I kind of wanted to work on showing the specific way in which Max was affected by the events of After Angel, so to me it felt like showing her dream sequence was an important part of it. (Not at all meant in an argumentative way - just letting you know my reasoning behind including that bit!) Glad that you find the quality good, and thank you for your loyalty in the comment box! :D**

I don't think I feel sad anymore.

'Sad'.

It's a stupid word. A stupid, small word that tries to be more than it is. I mean, three letters? Seriously? Three letters trying to encompass anything stretching from grief to pain to utter, heartbroken devastation.

What idiot came up with that?

So maybe I don't feel sad anymore because I never really felt sad to begin with. I felt lost, I felt sick from hurting so much, I felt as though my world had just ceased to function in any way that I could begin to understand…

'Sad' was too much of a horrific understatement to even consider using it to describe the way I was feeling.

But now I feel kind of numb, like I'm hovering somewhere between 'apathetic' and 'melancholy'. Now _those_ are good words. I'll put my hands up and admit that I'm really not the first person anyone would usually come to if they wanted an in-depth analysis of the English language, but when you're feeling something and then the right words come along to explain that feeling, you _know_. You _know_ they're the right words because they just _sound_ right. Is it too corny to say that words sound like emotions? Yeah, probably.

I don't know why I'm suddenly feeling like this. It might be the tiredness. Causing the numbness, that is. It might be the exhaustion that comes with constantly having to put on a strong front that's dulling the pain. That's one theory; I've got a few of them. It might be the tiredness or it might be the shock of losing him, acting as an anaesthetic against the agony that that very situation caused in the first place, like an injected painkiller calming the sting of the device that administered it.

Nothing really seems like it matters now. Of course, I can still recognise the things that are important, can still look at something and logically deduce whether or not it needs attention, but I just can't bring myself to care so much about it anymore. Usually when you see something as being significant, you form a kind of emotional attachment to it which drives you forwards to get the job done, give it the consideration it demands, etcetera. Right now that sounds like something that requires more energy than I've got.

There's another theory – to feel something takes energy. Think about how tiring being angry or ecstatic or afraid can be. Even if it's a positive emotion, feeling anything strongly enough will drain you, at least for a little while. And I've been feeling way too much recently. I'm sure that the sentiments are still lurking inside me somewhere, underlying my words and my thoughts and my dreams, but I used up every ounce of strength I possessed feeling more than I could have thought possible in the first few weeks after he left. Now my bank is dry, my eyes are dry, everything about me is dry, dry, dry.

That's another word with three letters, just like 'sad'. But being a small word suits 'dry' just fine. It's meant to be small, it's meant to be insignificant and dull and lifeless. If you look at it for long enough it kind of stops looking like a word and just turns into a sensation of strange discomfort and monotony, the feeling of sun-scorched sand rubbing against parched skin. Kind of rough and gritty and too smooth all at the same time. Just hearing the word enough times makes you feel dehydrated, like the moisture's being sapped from your mouth.

It's really quite pathetic, what I've become. I'm just floating along now, barely in contact with the rest of the world. Have you ever had that feeling when it's like you're functioning just a split-second behind everyone and everything else? You're out of synch, but not enough to cut you off completely; you're close enough to see it all, to realise what you're missing, but you're always that half-step behind, so nothing quite makes it right through to you and sparks a connection. There's a gap there that you can't bridge, and whenever you try you end up with something jerky and watered-down, just a thin, weak imitation of how things really are.

Is this really all I am now? Did I give too much away, reduce myself to this? Did he take all of me with him when he left? Because that's what it feels like; I'm like a freaking ghost, a shell that's been stripped of its contents. All gone.

Even though 'all' isn't a big word to look at, when you say it out loud it ends up sounding big. Which is as it should be, really. It's made up of those kinds of sounds, the ones that can be stretched and drawn out and pulled like taffy, so that soon enough it becomes as vast as whatever it's being used in reference to. It glides out of your mouth and seems like it could go on forever, just spreading further and further out, going on and on until it surrounds you completely, reverberating like a single, forever-echoing musical note.

I gave him my all, dredging up every last piece of me to lay out in front of him, completely vulnerable and exposed.

Which brings us to my last idea as to why my emotions are drifting off somewhere where I can't quite reach them: when I let myself feel, when I let myself open up to the things inside me instead of dampening them down until I don't have to acknowledge them anymore, suddenly _everything_ is like a huge, blaring alarm that rings in my ears and tells me over and over that he's gone. He was – is – a part of me, so deeply rooted into my very core that to feel anything is to remember him, because how could that not be the case when I gave him so much of me, allowed myself to feel so much for him? Pain and anger and confusion are all constant reminders of how he left, how he _made_ me experience all those emotions by deciding that he couldn't or shouldn't be in my life anymore.

When I'm not numb, I think too much, remember too much.

When I'm not numb, I think of him.

Him.

Him.

And suddenly three letters doesn't seem quite so small after all.

**A/N Right, so as I said before, this was an odd one. That means it's more important than EVER that you let me know what you thought. Did you like it? Did you find it a bit too abstract and bizarre? Let me know; REVIEW! XD****  
**


	5. The One We Didn't See

**A/N: So it's been a while. This is one I've kind of had in my head for some time, but I only just got around to writing it ('cause, you know, it was midnight and I was like 'what better way to spend my time before I go out on work experience placement tomorrow?'). Anyways, I hope you like it - a bit cheesy, a bit corny, but I feel like I've been writing some unhappy songs and stuff as of late, so this sort of balances it out. Read away!**

New Year's Eve. What a joy. 'Cause everyone knows that I just love flashy holidays with lots of noise and lights and promises I can't keep, right?

'It would've been really nice to go and see the fireworks, Max.' Angel's voice carried across the room to me from where she sat in front of Nudge, whose hands were busy weaving her ever-lengthening blonde curls into two plaits that hung down on either side of her head. It really was about time I laid hands on some scissors and neatened everyone's hair up a bit; we'd scrubbed up as best we could for our debut in front of Congress, but there's only so much that can be done at the last minute and we were all starting to revert back to our pre-Capitol state (that is, just a tad dishevelled around the edges).

'I know, sweetie, but it just didn't work out. You know we don't do well in crowds and the streets are gonna be packed tonight.'

'I know,' she sighed sadly. 'They're really pretty, that's all. And it's not as fun watching it on TV. Thanks, Nudge.'

Angel hopped up from her seat, plaits brushing her shoulders lightly as she moved.

'Looks good,' I said, laying a hand on her head and running it down one of the braids as she wrapped her arms around my middle.

'Uh-huh,' she mumbled, her voice lost a little in the hug. As she stepped back I could see the distance in her eyes; she was stuck in the dream of going out for New Year's, feeling the anticipation and the excitement, being able to act like a normal six year old for once.

'Why don't you two go and get ready for bed?' I suggested, looking over at Nudge. 'Then you can come back through here and we'll all stay up late and watch what's happening on the TV and make New Year's resolutions that we know none of us will stick to, 'kay?'

Angel smiled a little but it was clear that her thoughts were still far away. I let out a sigh as she and Nudge traipsed through to the adjoining room – our designated bedroom out of the two that had been booked for us during our stay in DC – and moved over to the sofa, slumping next to Fang in the spot that Angel had just vacated.

'You okay?' he asked, his dark eyes turning towards me.

'Mhm.' I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, my face tilted towards the ceiling. 'I hate disappointing them, but… Claustrophobic streets, lots of loud bangs and bright colours, everyone around us being drunk and over-excited… It's too much. Too many people, too loud, too chaotic, too distracting. Too _everything_. I just don't see how it could work.'

He didn't say anything for a moment and I assumed that was the end of that conversation. I was mistaken. Because apparently the boy's always got to do something to prove me wrong.

'What if I do?'

I frowned and lifted my head to stare at him; his eyebrows were raised in a way that said 'no big deal', but one side of his mouth was quirked up in a sort-of-smile that told me he was just waiting to show me up with whatever – ahem – _brilliant_ plan he'd put together. So of course I had to hit him with all the wit that I possessed.

'What? What do you mean?'

Yep. All the wit.

Fang's sort-of-smile turned into a half-smile and his eyes gleamed in that annoying way they always do when he knows something that I don't.

'Do you trust me?'

* * *

An hour later we were sitting on the roof of the Torpedo Factory on Alexandria's waterfront. We'd managed to bundle the kids back into day clothes and jackets, and within a half hour of Fang's suggestion we were ready to go. The flight over should have taken about ten minutes, but the whole place was so crowded that we kept having to slow down as we got closer to our destination, stopping and starting to avoid being seen. By the time we arrived, I was convinced that we'd been spotted; my anxiety levels were off the charts, and my gaze darted around to check for any threats in the throngs of people that filled the streets.

But it was worth it.

From that roof we could see _everything_. The barge that held the fireworks was docked out on the Potomac River, off-shore at the end of King Street. Bang in front of us. And on the ground below we could see people milling about, their voices all merging together in one excited buzz that floated up towards us.

And the best part of all?

Although we could see everything, no one could see us. Because, you know, we were on a _roof_.

'So?'

I looked over to where the kids were jumping around, full of energy, their faces glowing as they peered over the railings at the crowd and stared out across the water at the firework barge. Iggy was lying on the flat surface of the roof, propped up on his elbows, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face as he waited for the smell of gunpowder.

Turning back to Fang, I gave him a grudging smile.

'Well played,' I conceded, and his face lit up in a triumphant smirk.

'It was, huh?'

'Okay, don't get ahead of yourself, it wasn't _that_ well played.'

The evening passed in a blur of noise and colour and high spirits, and by the time things were gearing up for the countdown we were all huddled together in a cold-defying clump by the railings that ran along the edge of the roof.

'One minute to go!' Gazzy crowed, caught up in the exhilaration of the fast-approaching New Year.

Angel came up beside me and slipped a small hand into mine. We'd splurged on snacks from the hotel mini-fridge (despite the insane prices – seriously, who said it was okay to charge four dollars for a candy bar?), and her fingers were sticky from whatever it was she'd been eating.

_This is fun_, said her voice in my head.

I smiled down at her.

_It is, isn't it?_

The crowd started to speak in unison, the buzz turning into words, and as the countdown started we all joined in with them.

'Ten…'

_I'm glad that we came._

_Me too, sweetie._

'Nine…'

'Eight…'

_You know you're meant to kiss someone at midnight, right?_

'Se-… Seven…'

For some reason her words jarred me, threw me off. I turned to look down at her as the countdown continued.

'Six…'

_He's behind you. _What was this, some kind of weird pantomime built around making me feel confused and insecure?

'Five…'

'Four…'

Her eyes held a mischievous glint which made them look far too old and knowing for her face.

'Three…'

Why was my heart thumping so hard?

'Two…'

'One.'

Then Angel stood up on her tiptoes, planted a slightly sticky kiss on my cheek, and bounced away towards the other kids with an all-too-innocent 'happy New Year, Max!'

I could practically feel Fang's eyes on the back of my head, and I almost couldn't turn around. I was kind of scared about what would happen. But I managed it, forced it, wanting to prove to myself that it was nothing.

It was a mistake. I think.

As soon as our eyes met it was as if his gaze lasered into me; the intensity of his stare made me catch my breath. Bright bursts of light from the fireworks flickered across his face, throwing every feature into technicolour definition.

I spun away, plastering on a smile as I took a few steps away from him and towards the others where they stood, fixated by the New Year's display.

* * *

By the time we arrived back at the hotel, the three younger kids were exhausted. They went straight through to the bedroom, Iggy and Fang following to make sure they got changed and at the very least attempted something close to oral hygiene before collapsing into bed. I stayed in the second room, trying to clear my head enough to work out how much our mini-fridge fee would tally up to. I think I stared at the price list for about five minutes before realising that it wasn't going to happen.

The back of my neck prickled as I straightened up and I swung around quickly, only to be met by a wall of dark shirt.

'Jeez, every time,' I muttered. Then, louder:

'Really, Fang? Do you _have _to do that?'

He shrugged.

'It's kind of fun.'

I rolled my eyes and stepped around him, straightening things up as I moved through the room - my mom was visiting the next day and I didn't want her to think that I was _totally _incapable of keeping the place respectably tidy.

'So things worked out well tonight.'

I nodded as I bent to pull a sock – Gazzy's, by the smell of it – from underneath the coffee table.

'I'd say so. The kids enjoyed it.'

'Yeah.'

Neither of us said anything for a moment as I continued to make my way around the room.

'Max?'

'Yeah?'

I heard him take in a short, sharp breath.

'Three.'

I frowned and twisted my head to look back over my shoulder at him.

'What? Three what?'

'Two.'

My frown deepened as I turned to face him fully, not understanding what was going on.

'One.'

And Fang's hand was on my neck, and the other was at my waist, pulling me forwards, and his lips were on mine. This kiss was deeper than the ones before. Rougher, more urgent, full of snatched breaths and gripping fingers. Like he was trying to prove something. He pulled me closer and I felt myself giving way to him, kissing him back.

Oh, God.

I wanted to stay like this forever.

My hands moved up almost of their own accord to his shoulders, wanting to get as close to him as possible, and I could feel myself shaking but clearly Fang didn't care so why should I? And his mouth was unrelenting against mine, and my heart felt as though it was pounding right out of my chest, and it felt so good but at the same time so damn terrifying and…

Oh, _God._

I pulled back, barely able to breathe and completely unable to move. Fang's arms were wrapped around me, holding me tight against him. There'd be no running away this time. I settled with staring downwards as best I could, not meeting his eyes.

'Why do you do that?' he breathed, his words brushing over the top of my head.

I couldn't answer him. I couldn't speak. All I could manage was a slight shake of my head. _I don't know._

His lips pressed against my forehead, lingering there, his thumb stroking slowly along my cheek. _Is this so awful? Would it really be so bad to just let this happen? _My eyes closed, my body leaning into his even as he pulled away completely; the loss of his arms and warmth and closeness was felt more keenly than I'd really like to admit.

I started slightly as he let out a low chuckle, nodding slightly as if to himself.

'Whenever you're ready, Max.'

And all I could do was stand there, stunned, speechless, as he settled himself down on the sofa.

'My turn on first watch. Go get some sleep.'

Somehow I managed to force my feet to move, to turn around and walk through to the other room where the rest of the flocked lay sprawled out across the twin beds. My heart was still racing as I curled myself up as small as I could on the armchair, a thousand different thoughts (thankfully all belonging to me on this occasion) flying through my head.

'Get some sleep'? Yeah. As if.

**A/N: I think that the part of the series that came before they got together was better than the part that followed - the tension between them was just so awesome in the first few. And I guess this was my attempt at adding to that. Please let me know what you thought by reviewing. It's really easy and the comment box doesn't bite!**


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